Archive for child

Why yes. Yes it is the end of the day!

I have nothing interesting to say.

This of course assumes that anything I have said up to this point is interesting.

Which is really subjective, because I could enjoy someones blow by blow description of ice melting if they describe it right! I mean, come on.. ice melting…

*blink*

The Wii fit continues to traumatize my child because it does not tell me that I am losing any weight. I am coming to terms with this, though, as I am starting to realize that maybe I should focus on “getting in shape” as opposed ot losing that last 10 pounds. I thought, when I started waiting tables, that all of that walking would help, but I guess all of the “biscuit eating” has off set that. Funny how that works, right?

So, my dilemma of the day involves a 10 year old huge Aladdin alarm clock. Did I just date myself? I did, didn’t I? Bygones. Anyway, when I graduated college, I decided I had to have this clock. Because that is what every new grad needs, an oversized novelty alarm clock, and I am nothing if not a follower. Or maybe the phrase I’m looking for is “trend setter” because, as it turns out NO ONE really needs an oversized novelty alarm clock, least of all me. But I kept it in my office anyway, and got a few cute comments on it, which thinned out as I got older. Now I just get the occasional “WTF is that thing?” or “what are you, 8?”.

Which leads me to my dilemma. Child is 8 and he needs an alarm clock. If this were a picture blog at all, I would post a picture of the clock in question and you would understand. The clock is fashioned like an old fashioned alarm clock, with the two big bells on top. But on this particular time piece, the bells are the size
of Asia and when they ring, the building empties like the fire alarm has gone off.

Child thinks the sound of leaves falling is too loud. Somehow I don’t think that the massive scary alarm clock would be a hit.

I suppose I could give it to charity. Or I could give it to one of you! Anyone want a 10 year old functioning giant novelty Aladdin alarm clock? It’s free but I won’t be held responsible for any health conditions that arise if you actually USE the alarm!!!

The Wii Fit traumatized my son!!!

Ok, so last Christmas, my parents got us a Wii Fit.

Today, Child and I hooked it up.

I could regale you with the bevy of reasons, from “working too much” to “not enough room” but the truth of the matter is “just too lazy”. Hey truth hurts.

So, my point. We hooked up the Wii Fit and OMG it is so much fun! First child got on and the program told him that he is at a healthy BMI (I hope so for 8), his balance and posture suck and that he weighs exactly what the doctor said he weighs. This shot a bolt of terror through my soul, as I knew I was next and frankly, I have no real interest in knowing my real weight. I fit in my clothes and still eat chocolate. That’s all I need to know.

So, Child played with some of the balance games for awhile, while I sat in the chair and scoffed. Silly man cub, thought I, just wait until you’re grown and these games are child’s play. CHILD’S PLAY I tell you!

After he had his fun it was my turn. So, I let the program size me up. I apparently have great posture. If you know me in real life, you are cracking the hell up at that statement, since it is unbelievable to most that I can even walk upright. But then the program calculated my BMI and I was 1 point in the “overweight” range. Well this was all child needed to see to have a small break down. “You’re OVERWEIGHT????”.

Thanks, Wii Fit! I needed some humiliation to get my lazy ass in gear!

Then child ran off to his room to drown his sorrows over my weight in his other electronics and I pushed the button to let the system weigh me. I weigh….

…. Come on. You didn’t really think I would tell you, did you?

I weight about 10 lbs more than I should. Not bad. I know. But now it’s a challenge. Ten pounds. Bring it, Wii!

The games on this thing are fun. I don’t think I am going to qualify for the Olympics anytime soon, but they are fun and they actually get your heart rate going. Well. They got mine going. Anyone who has a resting heart rate below that of an anxious hamster may find the program less of a challenge.

Oh, speaking of anxious hamster, Trick or treat was this weekend. I’ll post pictures! No, I won’t, you should realize that this is a picture-less blog! Anyway, child was a storm trooper and DP and I did not dress initially to take him out, but after about an hour, we found that people were mistaking us for “blocks of ice” so we went with that. We did, however, make child go home before we morphed into “hypothermia victims”. All that considered, however, child made out with 2 bags full of candy.

And, as a matter of fact, we have been snacking on it as if it is two big bags of soy nuts.

This could explain why the Wii traumatized my son! But more on that later. I am off to have some chocolate. Stolen chocolate. The best kind!

Something Positive

Child is really good company. Oh sure, he is obsessed with Star Wars and Pokemon, but really, who isn’t? Last night we decorated his entire room for Halloween. This morning, it had all fallen down because the tape we used sucked, so to ight we get to do it all over again! This thrills Child to no end. Kids are the best!!

Real post comming. I swear.

Sylvia Plath on your shoulder now…

Who here thinks that Dooce is modern day sylvia plath?

No one? Really? Oh wait, that’s no one CARES. I get it, sorry.

I don’t really care, either, but man these internets are FULL of people who are just OBSESSED with Dooce. WTF? Like they analyze her every move and her every word and her every breath. Stalker much? My opinion, I could care less who she is in person. She’s an author. I enjoy her writing, some days not as much, I think her dogs and kids are cute ad she cracks me up with her swipes at the “haters”. But otherwise, I have better things to do with my time than obsess over her.

So moving on to the important stuff. All about me. HAHA!

I forgot to take towels with me into the shower and Child had to get them for me. I wonder if this will scar him for life? I mean, I was covered up, but still…

I made the best pumpkin pie EVER tonight. Well. It smells good anyway. I haven’t actually eaten any. In fact I don’t really LIKE Pumpkin pie. Ok, so I made the best SMELLING pumpkin pie ever! Does that count for anything?

I was watching that show “The Shark” or “The Shark Tank” or whatever the hell it’s called and everytime someone new came out with something, I would think, “I totally could have made that” and then glare at the people for coming up with the idea first. Until the idea got shot down. Then I would laugh and think “they suck!!”. I’m petty like that.

Child is wearing his underwear on his head and singing “my name is underwear boy! Underwear boy!!!”. I am thinking this is my cue to get off line and put him to bed.

Good night!

Randomness

I am feling very random today and extra points go to anyone who has the tolerence to actually read through this to the end!

I have a temper. A bad, mean, nasty, klingon-like, EVIL temper. Like the kind of temper that makes me think, in the middle of said temper flare up that I could pick up a dog and make a doggie shaped hole in the wall. NO, I have never actually done it. Any brilliant suggestions for controlling said temper that do not involve a) count to ten b) breathe c) hit a pillow..?

The lights in this office are making my head hurt. What is strange is, until this very day, I never actually believed that flourescent light could make one’s head hurt, but here I sit in pain and I am a believer. I think this likely says something about me and my need for external validation in relationship to faith.

I am so far behind in my work right now that I may never catch up. This is distressing on two levels: first there is the level that says that I am doing something very important and the fact that I am behind in doing it will have consequences for someone. The second level is the one that says that no one will ever even notice that I am not keeping up on what I have ot do and therefore what I do in general is rendered completely pointless, except as the most horrid kind of busy work, designed to make one feel as if they are making a difference when in actuallity they are doing nothing but feeding their self absorbed need to seem important.

What should I make for dinner? The fact is that I am so extremely tired today taht I want to give my son a pop tart and put him to bed so that I cna climb in to bed too. But I am compelled to make him something that has at least a little more substance. He would like macarroni and cheese. I am thinking I need to grill some chicken or what not. It all sounds like a lot of work to me right now.

In retrospect, maybe it is not the lights iving me a headache as much as it is the effort required to keep my eyes open. So much for faith.

My son thinks that God and Santa have the power to bring things back to life. As his father points out, perhaps we should embark on correcting that thought at some point. Oh, and he has an unnatural fear of children turning into fruit. Well, frankly, who doesn’t?

I went to see Fabulous Gay Dave last week for a trim and I am feeling as if my hair is short now, even though it’s not really, and I fear that it is not as kicky as it was before. I don’t understand why it won’t grow? I have been putting Miracle Grow on it every day since I was 16 and my friend Cheryl told me that this is what she used to get *her* hair to grow! Maybe *that’s* why I have a headache!

For some odd reason, I am barely resisting the urge to break out with a chorus of “Believe it or Not” (the theme from the Greatest American Hero).

Sadly, however, this is not the song that is currently running through my head. I would share what that song is, but then it would run through all of your heads too, and I don’t care to weild that kind of power.

All of my grades are posted except my statistics grade. Why???? What have I done to deserve this academic absurdity? Why can’t my instructor just tell me the fucking grade???? I am sure they were supposed to be in a while ago… do you think he is hunched in the corner of his furthest bedroom and snickering and petting his white cat as he considers the torture he is putting us through by withholding the one grade that we are all freaked out about???

Thus ends the Gospel of Me.

It’s hard out here for a pimp..

My darling child.

 Before I could even get the goop out of my eyes (there’s a lovely image for all of you who are reading this while you are eating your mid morning snack) and get my clothes on this morning, my darling child was up, dressed, coat on and ready to walk out the door. As in I opened the bathroom door from peeing and he was standing there, completely ready to go.

 Most morinings, I have to drag him, kicking and screaming out of bed.

In case you are wondering what this early morning magic is, thy name is game boy. Yes, my son is a slave to the game boy and I have become its willing pimp. Apparently, there is no school today. I say apparently because every other parent in the district read the calendar that they sent home at some point in the past 7 months and knew this. Me, I saw that strange thing with lines, numbers and pertenant information and filed it under “may be important but can’t be bothered” and therefore didn’t realize that there was no school today until I overheard another parent asking the teacher about it on Tuesday. Whew, good thing I’m nosey, isn’t it?!?! At any rate, I figured I was just going to have to call in for Friday until Oakley looked at me with those big Green… ummm, Brown… uhhh… HAZEL eyes and begged me to go to daycare for the day. Well, who am I to turn down such a cute kid and so I made the call and Daycare it is. While this may seem like a ruse for my kid to get as far the heck away from me and my chaotic household as he can (did I mention we spent an hour last night making a homemade drum that was due 2 days ago? Yeah… that’s another blog….) in actuality it all has to do with his Lord and Master, the Game Boy. See on Fridays, the kids at daycare are allowed to bring their game boys with them to play with and share.

So fast forward to this morning, 6:45am and my son, dressed, ready to go, with his Nintendo DS in it’s case slung around his neck and his Game Boy advance in it carrying case in his hand… while I am half asleep stumbling out of the bathroom like a zombie, trying to get the drool off my chin, the cat off my back and goo out of my eyes. And the inquisition begins:

Child: Mommy! Let’s go!!

Me: Honey, I need to get dressed.

Child: Well what are you doing!?!?!

 Child: Honey, I’m washing up.

Child: Well what about now?!?!

Me: Honey, I’m going potty.

Child: Are you pooping or peeing?!?!

 Me: Oaks go to your room and leave me be until I am ready to go!!!!!!

Child: Ok. (PAUSE). MOMMY!!! Are you ready yet?!?!

 And so on and so on……

See he’s not normally allowed to touch his game boy in the morings on schoool days. And only in the evenings if hes had a good day and all of his homework is done. So to get to A) go near it in the morning and B) play with it all day on a school day… well, this is like the road to Mecca!!!! And Mommy is delaying the journey!!! Silly clothes!!! JUST GO NAKED!!!

Needless to say I managed to get my slow old ass together and get the poor lad to his daycare in a timely manner so that he could begin his day of happiness with his friends. But not before I heard everything I ever wanted to know about why Mario wears red and how yoshi should have a “Y” somewhere on his clothes, to match the “M” that Mario has on his. And did you know that dinosaurs lay eggs and that pirranah plants have white freckles???

Adult conversation anyone? But on the plus side, Child is sticking by his assertion that he is going to make games when he grows up. Which then stands to reason that he should be supporting me in a manner to which I am unaccustomed, seeing as he is a good boy who loves his mommy and will therefore be funneling her money well into her old age.

I deserve it. After all, It’s hard out here for a Pimp!